Hope Is The Thing
by SweetSinger2010
Summary: Kanan didn't necessarily believe that there was true goodness in the galaxy, but he believed that Hera believed it. Season 1 Kanera one-shot.


A/N: This tiny fic is set right after season one's "Vision of Hope." Title inspired by Emily Dickinson's poem "Hope is the thing with feathers." I have this headcanon that Hera gets discouraged about the fight against the Empire more than she lets on, losing sight of the forest for the trees, as the saying goes. This drabble is a little pointless, a little plot-less, and a little ramble-y, but today was totally blah and I wanted some Kanera in my life. It was as cathartic as I hoped it'd be.

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Hope Is The Thing

Kanan leaned in the galley doorway, a little more than half-awake, arms folded as he watched Hera pull everything out of the cabinets, lay it out, arrange it according to size and item-type, and then _put it all back_ almost exactly as it had come out. She was thirty minutes deep in that process before she ever noticed him there. She froze, flushing guiltily.

"How did you know?" She asked, dropping her gaze.

He tilted his head, considering his answer. "I could sense it," he answered at last.

"You—" Her eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed. "Liar."

He shrugged. "I could hear you banging around in here. But that doesn't mean I didn't think something was bothering you before that. You talked a good game with Ezra, but I know you."

Hera turned her attention back to the dozen assorted dishes and pieces of cookware still needing to be put away. "It's nothing."

Kanan felt old anger curl in the pit of his stomach; he had to bite back something harsh before he said, "If that's how you wanna play it, I'm going back to bed."

She gasped and the plate she was holding slipped out of her hands and clattered on the countertop. She stared at Kanan, surprised by his sharp tone. "Well _go_ if you want to," she snipped back. "Sorry I bothered you."

He dragged a hand over his sleep-disheveled hair and made an aggravated sound. "You know what? The only thing _bothering_ me is—" He cut that statement short when he saw the guarded pain in her eyes, illuminated by unshed tears. "Just—let me…" He stepped forward, reaching for her awkwardly. " _Let_ me."

He took her hands—they were bare right now; _Force,_ how he loved feeling the soft skin of her skilled, delicate hands—and she loosely interlaced their fingers. He stayed still, letting her take a step toward him when she was ready to. When she lay her head on his chest, he figured it was safe to put his arms around her. She was trembling from cold and exhaustion.

"I wanted to believe in Trayvis." The words were mumbled against the fabric of his shirt. "So, so badly."

Kanan sighed; he should have seen this coming. Hera had been eating up Trayvis' every word for a year now, looking to him as a beacon of hope, the common person's voice against the Empire. Kanan hadn't ever thought much of the man; once a politician, he mused, always a politician. But he hadn't voiced that jaded outlook to Hera. He couldn't stand to do anything that might stain her optimism. He held her tighter. "I know you did," he said simply.

She tensed. "I feel…so… _stupid_."

"Looking for the best in people is _not_ stupid." He stepped back from her just a little and used a finger to lift her chin. "Hey. Come on, now."

"It was naïve."

Kanan almost laughed; Hera was a lot of things, but naïve wasn't one of them. Her hopeful outlook on the galaxy's bleak state had always been tinged with a healthy dose of realism. "It wasn't."

"Kanan." She frowned. He rolled his eyes; how was it that she could make his name sound like a romantic enticement in some moments and like a tired admonishment in others?

"Hera." He echoed her tone and she softened around the edges.

She let her knuckles trace his cheekbone. "What if it's always just—one step forward and three steps back?"

He leaned into her touch. "What if it is?" He countered. "Eventually, you _will_ make it the three steps forward."

"You don't really believe that." The statement wasn't accusatory, just soft and sad. They both knew he was invested in their work, but not necessarily in the belief that the Empire could actually fall.

"Yeah, well." He turned his face, kissing her palm. "I believe that you believe it. That's enough for me."

The _for now_ was heavily, if inadvertently, implied. Hera bit her lip. "Is it?"

It was almost zero-four-hundred and Kanan was definitely too tired for _that_ conversation. He sidestepped it for both their sakes. "Hera, this ship runs on elbow grease and your faith that goodness still exists in this karking galaxy. We need that." He paused. " _I_ need that." Her brows were drawn together pensively and Kanan used his thumb to smooth away the worry lines on her forehead. "What do _you_ need—right now?"

She hummed, considering, and the look in her eyes was honest and raw. "Hope."

She brushed her mouth against his and drew him into a kiss that was slow and tender and asking for reassurance. With one hand on the small of her back to keep her pressed close and the other stroking her lekku with a gentle and practiced touch, he gave it to her.


End file.
